


Neighborly Affection

by Thestarlitrose



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, Alternate Universe - Human, Aziraphale's Name is Ezra (Good Omens), Christmas Fluff, Crowley owns a flowershop, He was also a doctor, M/M, Mentions of Cancer, Minor Character Death, Yes I realize it's october
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 08:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21115505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn't impressed.He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.The Childhood Friends, Flower Shop, Christmas, Friends to Lovers fic nobody asked for in the middle of October.





	Neighborly Affection

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, but enjoy the weird kid!fic/Flowershop au/ friends to lovers/christmas/hallmark movie wanna be fic.

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell.

He was small, wrinkled and had grey-white curls atop his tiny little head. When he leaned in for a closer look, bright blue eyes stared back at him while his small fingers tangled in his hair and tugged.

Both boys cried after the encounter.

Little Anthony hadn’t been impressed and told his mother as much when they arrived home after the visit. She had tutted and given him a biscuit, promising him that one day the two would be great friends.

He didn't believe her.

The second time he met Ezra, his mother was babysitting, taking care of the small infant while his mother went shopping for that week's groceries. She had sat him down on their sofa and gently laid the tiny bundle in his arms. This time, instead of his hair, Ezra had wrapped his small fingers around Anthony’s and held them tightly, inadvertently gaining the approval of the young boy in the process.

He was utterly taken with the baby and had asked his mother if they could keep him.

She politely told him, "no."

He’d proudly told Mrs. Fell that he had helped his mummy take care of Ezra and that he was very strong; for a baby, that is and asked if they could visit more often.

As the boys grew, Anthony became protective over the little boy.

When Anthony was in third grade, Ezra started kindergarten. Anthony held his hand as he walked him to his class on the first day, and subsequently every day for the rest of the year.

He made sure to show him all the best spots on the playground and taught him how to properly kick a football.

He helped Ezra with homework, although, he seemed to have a rather firm grasp on it, or with making new friends; as he’d always been better at it than Ezra.

They were an unlikely duo, despite their age difference, the two got along well and could play for hours while their mothers visited with one another. Often playing under the old apple tree in Ezra's back yard or helping their mothers bake.

Christmases were the best, they could spend hours out in the snow and ice, only returning to home when they were completely and utterly frozen. Anthony especially loved the days when Mrs. Fell would make them mugs of cocoa topped with extra marshmallows while they thawed beside the fireplace, munching on Christmas biscuits and listening to records.

When Anthony was in sixth grade; his mother fell ill.

Mrs. Fell did her best to visit her dear friend often, Ezra would keep Anthony company, taking his mind off things for a few moments and allowing him to just be a kid.

By the time he was in eighth grade, she had passed away.

Ezra had been devastated for his dear friend, the older boy who’d he’d grown up with now seemed so lost. He was distant and sad, so unlike the Anthony he knew.

They moved away from the sleepy little village of Tadfield not four months after her passing. Too heartbroken to stay in the home that she’d kept, they moved away to London.

Ezra missed him terribly.

When Crowley was in tenth grade, his father remarried. The woman was cold, spiteful and so distant from what he remembered of his warm and soft mother that he missed so dreadfully much. Ezra and his parents had been invited to the wedding. Anthony had recognized him immediately and had all but run over to them. He’d hugged Mrs. Fell so tightly she winced and when he pulled away, he pretended not to have tears in his eyes.

He and Ezra had spent the rest of the evening together catching up and eating more cake than either of them should have.

They both promised the other they would write, and they did for a brief time, then as it usually happens, the letters got fewer and further apart until communication ceased completely.

When he graduated, he received a package from Mrs. Fell in the post containing fifty pounds and a framed picture of his mother, Mrs. Fell, Ezra and himself smiling widely, eyes full of mischief and mirth.

He'd cried that night holding the framed photo, missing simpler times and his mother dearly.

Years later, it still hung proudly in his living room. 

Anthony, now known almost exclusively by his last name; Crowley, hadn’t thought of Ezra Fell in many years with more than a passing memory. As many adults do, he had forgotten what had been important to him as a child. The times he did stop to think about the Fell’s, he reflected on how perfect the world had seemed during the days spent together with his mother and her best friend and Ezra.

He’d done well for himself, he’d become a florist of all things and had opened a shop in Soho called Nightshade. He had worked hard, saved and pinched until he’d had earned enough to secure the building and the small flat above it. He’d worked to make it his, painting the shop and arranging the shelves just so. He made his workspace sleek and tidy.

His work had become popular, even making it into several of the top bridal magazines for arrangements he created for a few celebrity weddings.

His assistant; a woman by the name of Anathema Device, was the only other person he would work with. He felt she kept him grounded, she also happened to make a good cup of coffee.

He was proud of the life he’d created for himself, he had a home, his dream job, a few close friends who meant the world to him and a little snake he’d jokingly named Crawley.

There were times when he missed his Mother and wished he liked his father and stepmother enough to visit. He often wondered what she would think of his choices, would she be proud of him? He felt that she would. His father had been livid when he'd left the hospital, he had never really wanted to be a doctor, but it had been expected of him. No, at forty-six, he was much happier as a florist than he ever had been as a doctor.

It was one of those days when he had been thinking a bit too much of his childhood, the days laying out under the huge apple tree in between the Fell’s property and their own. The way the sun seemed to warm his soul all the while listening to Ezra’s insistent chattering or playing some silly little game. As they got older, they would read quietly as their mother's laughed in the kitchen.

He sometimes wondered what the boy had gotten up to. He had once attempted to find him on Facebook but had never been able to find him. He had probably married some local woman, had a few children, maybe a dog. He hoped he was doing well, that he was happy.

He was pulled from his musings of times long past by Anathema. “Crowley? When do you need the delivery of roses by? They just called and said they could be a day late.”

He ran a slender hand through his shocking auburn hair, “Shit, at least by this afternoon so we can start prepping for the wedding this weekend. Call them back and tell them early tomorrow morning at the latest. Tell them if they do this again, we will find a supplier that can meet deadlines.”

She nodded and walked into the back office.

Across the street, the relator took down the For-Sale sign in the window of the old tea shop. He briefly wondered who had purchased it, it needed work. The previous owner had done little in the way of maintenance and whoever purchased it would need to put in quite a few hours to make it inhabitable again.

A month later, a work truck arrived.

New windows were put in, repairs were made to the roof and to the building. Once they were finished on the outside, it looked much the same but refreshed. From what he could tell, the inside was being heavily renovated as well.

It was mid-October when a moving truck arrived outside the shop. He knew there was a flat above that shop as well; he’d briefly considered buying it since the space was a bit larger than his own shop but the amount of work needing to be done on it was outrageous. If the new owners were moving in, that must mean that they were close to opening.

He decided to take a nice bouquet over soon, once they were settled to introduce himself. It never hurt to be friendly with the neighbors, especially when they could direct customers over to you.

A week later, various vans arrived delivering what he assumed was the merchandise they planned to sell.

A bookshop, he concluded by that afternoon.

He’d yet to see the new owners, only a small blue sedan that had been parked beside the building since they’d moved in.

Yet another week passed, and Crowley was beginning to wonder if the shop would ever open. He'd decided it was likely a young couple, pilling all their funds into their dream bookshop.

They still didn’t have a window sign up and neither he nor Anathema had yet to catch sight of the new owners.

Two more days passed before he spotted any signs of life beyond stocked shelves and an old blue car.

“Do you think they are ever going to open? If they don’t open by the holidays, I don’t see them lasting the year.” Anathema said as she arranged a new order of succulents, they’d gotten in on the window sill.

“Move the two bigger ones into the middle of the display, there. But you’re right, maybe they took too big a risk in all those repairs. I told you the place was a wreck when the old owner left.”

She nodded towards the window, “Don’t look now but I think that might be him!”

He caught sight of a man around his own age, he had white hair and dressed like his grandfather. Still, he was attractive enough from what he could tell.

“Exactly what I expected from a bookseller.”

“Crowley, really. He looks nice enough.”

“That he does.”

"He could be single."

He spluttered, "Oi! That's no way to speak to your boss."

"You're more than that and you know it," she said, mussing his hair as she walked into the backroom.

"Hey!" he replied, using his fingers to comb through his hair.

The next morning, he could tell someone was in the shop. Lights were on and he had seen someone walk past the newly formed window display several times.

He wondered if he'd been wrong. The man looked about his age, but he'd yet to see any sign of anyone other than the blonde.

He put together a nice arrangement, nothing too personal but a nice welcome nonetheless, and made his way across the street.

He knocked twice.

He heard shuffling, he moved to adjust the floral arrangement, obscuring his line of sight as the door swung open.

“Oh, hello. I’m afraid you have the wrong address.”

He propped the vase against his chest and reached out a hand blindly to the other man. “Definitely the correct address, I own the shop across the way and wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood. My name is Anthony Crowley, but you can just call me Crowley. Everyone else does.”

He felt a warm hand slide into his own, firm and strong, “Anthony Crowley? Was your mother’s name Beatrice? I do believe we’ve met before.” He said taking the arrangement and leading him into the shop.

Curiously, he followed.

The other man placed the flowers on one of the tables up front and turned around.

His usually quick-thinking brain stuttered to a halt, the man was gorgeous. Bright eyes and plump lips and the softest looking hair he’d ever seen. His hand tingling from where they’d just touched, and...

Then it hit him.

Oh.

“Oh, it’s you! Ezra?”

Ezra laughed, a sound so familiar and foreign it made him ache. How long had it been since he’d heard that laugh? It was deeper, different but the same.

he felt a pang of nostalgia wash over him as he thought of all their adventures as children.

“Quite well, what a surprise to see you! You must tell me how you’ve been. The last mother heard you’d become a doctor like your father.”

He wrinkled his nose, “I did, just wasn’t for me. I’m much more suited to life as a florist. I’ve been at it… oh, about ten years now. What made you decide to open a bookshop in Soho of all places?”

“Well, it’s always been a dream of mine. I have visited Soho many times throughout the years and oh! I just came to love it, it felt right. I was a professor of literature for many years and I came to find that I was quite good at finding rare works. It seemed fitting.”

It didn’t surprise him; from what he remembered of Ezra, he'd devoured books faster than a plate of his mother's biscuits.

“It’s a nice area, are you married?” he blurted out.

The man beamed, “Not at all, I thought I might have come close once, but he turned out to be dreadful. It’s just me and my books.” He laughed nervously, “What about you dear?”

“I was married briefly but we were not good together. We divorced after I started as an intern and I’ve been mostly single since.” He shrugged, "I'm not complaining."

"If I may ask, what did you practice?"

"Pediatric oncology, too many sick kids. Too many bad memories, I wanted to help but..." he trailed off.

"I understand." Crowley was surprised to believe him, he'd been there through his mother's cancer.

"Well, uh, I better get going."

“I’d love to catch up, I haven’t gotten my kitchen up and running yet or I would offer you something to drink,” Ezra said sheepishly.

Crowley laughed, “What about dinner tonight? My treat. We can catch up then.” He pulled out a business card and a pen, scribbled a number on the back and handed it to Ezra. “Call me, I close at 7 tonight. We can go to my favorite place two blocks over.”

Ezra nodded, "See you tonight, then."

"Tonight."

At 7:30 PM, Ezra Fell and Anthony J Crowley walked down the street together. The air was cool, even for this time of year. Their hands brushed accidentally as they moved out of the way of a couple passing them on the sidewalk, Crowley has been surprised to feel a lingering tingle where his warm hand had grazed his own.

“I should have mentioned it was sushi, are you ok with this?” he asked cautiously.

He wiggled, Ezra still seemed to exude excitement when food was involved. “It is a favorite of mine!”

Crowley nodded and held the door for the other man.

The night went well, they’d gotten along just as well as they had as children.

Crowley had learned that Ezra’s parents had both passed away recently, his father first then his mother not long after.

He learned that he’d originally wanted to go into the ministry before a Shakespeare class had inspired him otherwise. He had sheepishly admitted that he would have likely been a terrible priest but was a relatively good professor and had enjoyed it immensely.

Crowley told him about his strained relationship with his father, about the marriage his father had convinced him would be the best for his career. How she had cheated on him with his father on multiple occasions. How he'd been good as his job but couldn't take the suffering and death.

They spent time together often, dining out and going to plays or concerts. They fell into a familiar pattern, nearly every night was now spent in the company of the other.

And despite everything, Crowley found him incredibly attractive.

Perfect even. 

He was intelligent and kind, steadfast in his beliefs and was just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.

He also had excellent taste in wine and didn’t mind sharing his finds.

He was a bright light in a world of darkness, and he found that he was addicted to Ezra.

They were sprawled out on Ezra's old sofa, wine glasses full.

He was content.

And quite suddenly, he realized it had come full-circle. That he loved Ezra Fell, that the childhood love he’d felt for the boy he was, held nothing in comparison to the love he felt for the man sitting next to him.

In the blink of an eye, two years had passed.

Two years of being head over heels for his best friend, two years of dreaming about that soft, unyielding hand in his own, and two years of knowing with the utmost certainty that Ezra would likely never feel the same way for him.

November quickly rolled around, and the shops of Soho had already begun to decorate for the holiday season. Crowley had been taking orders for poinsettias and other Christmas arrangements for most of the day.

Anathema and he sat discussing the upcoming orders and how to best get them delivered quickly and efficiently so they wouldn’t be left clogging up their window space when she nudged him in the side. “Your boyfriend’s coming over.”

“Ngk. He’s not… we’re not. Anathema” he whined. She had been teasing him for months since she had sussed out his feelings for their neighbor.

She grinned and stuck out her tongue as the bell rang over the door. "You should just kiss him already, he likes you too."

"Go away!" he hissed, under his breath as Ezra walked into the shop.

“Oh, will you look at the time, it’s my lunch break.” She said tapping her watch, then stood up, grabbed her bag and walked out the door heading towards her favorite café.

He turned his attention to Ezra, “Mr. Fell, how may I assist you today?” he teased.

“I had hoped to steal you away for a bit, but it seems Miss. Device had a hankering for caffeine… or she wanted to see her young fellow before he left for the day.”

Crowley laughed, it was no secret Anathema had a thing for the klutzy barista. Newt was a nice enough man, but he certainly didn’t see what she saw in him. “She has asked him out three times already and he still hasn’t gotten the hint. She told me she’s going to just kiss him and drag him to bed if he doesn’t catch on soon.”

Ezra raised an eyebrow at that, mumbling something under his breath that sounded like “I know the feeling.”

“Hey, did you want any arrangements? I’m about to place the first order for poinsettias, mistletoe, and evergreen.”

He sighed, “I suppose, whatever you think best dear. I do love seeing young couples getting caught under the mistletoe.”

Crowley nodded.

“And done, I'll bring it by when everything comes in. I think we can close for lunch a few minutes early, Anathema should be back soon, and I’m starved. What did you have in mind?” he grabbed his coat and keys from behind the counter, taking a moment to lock up.

“Sushi?”

“Sounds good.”

During the walk to their favorite restaurant, their hands accidentally brushed not once, not twice but three times. he wasn't sure why Ezra kept running into him, but his poor heart wouldn’t take it if it happened again.

Ezra took a sip of his tea, swirling it around in the mug. "What would you say to Christmas this year at my parent's place? We haven't gone home in a while and it would be nice to get away for a few days."

Crowley grimaced, "I haven't had Christmas in Tadfield since... well, you know."

"We don't have to, you can come over to mine."

"You know, one of the things I have missed most about Christmas was the biscuits and cocoa. Sure, why not, let's do Christmas back home."

Ezra grinned and popped a piece of fish into his mouth, wiggling happily as he did so.

November soon became December, and both rarely had time to leave their shops, often staying open until 8 or 9 to keep up with the near-constant influx of customers. Their meals consisted of takeout and copious amounts of wine to survive.

Then, finally, it was Christmas Eve. They were closed for the next three days, as Christmas had fallen on a Saturday that year and would be closed as usual on Sunday. 

Crowley had come to find that he was looking forward to his trip to Tadfield. It wouldn’t be the first time they had returned to Tadfield, often using the cottage as a retreat when the bustling London streets became too much, but it was the first time he'd gone by during Christmas.

Ezra left the night before, Crowley would be meeting him the next morning if he was able to beat traffic. He'd packed the essentials, fed Crawley and headed on his way.

By the time Crowley arrived, it was nearing noon. He noticed the wreath on the door and smiled, Ezra loved Christmas. As children, he remembered the Fell house decorated beautifully in reds and greens. Mrs. Fell always had Christmas biscuits on hand and made the absolute best hot cocoa of anyone he’d ever met.

He gathered the two gifts he’d bought for Ezra along with the extra wine and goodies he’d picked up before leaving London, he managed to open the door and push through before being hit with nostalgia.

It smelt like his childhood, and as he took in the interior, he noticed decorations that hadn’t seen the light of day in years were out and twinkling as brightly as they had many moons ago.

Cinnamon candles were burning, and he could smell the freshly baked biscuits wafting from the kitchen.

He was so overwhelmed, he didn’t notice the shy smile Ezra flashed him.

“Wow” was all he could say, “Uh, wine?”

“I take it you like the décor? I got carried away, but Mother always made it so festive, it seemed wrong to only get a few things out.”

“It’s perfect.”

Ezra beamed, the room felt brighter somehow. His heart ached, he loved him so much. Being here, with the memories of the past and present made him want, the ache settling in between his ribcage. He wondered what his mother would say if she knew that he'd fallen in love with her best friend's son. She would probably tease him and run over to tell Mrs. Fell.

They made dinner together, Crowley built a fire and put on some old Christmas records Ezra had found while decorating. Before they both knew it, they were dressed in their pajamas and sipping on hot cocoa.

“You know Ezra, I think this is the best Christmas I’ve had since we were kids. Do you remember the biscuit exchange? Our moms would spend hours decorating and baking then you and I would sneak out handfuls? As a child, I was sure we were unnoticed, but I think they left that plate out just for us.”

Ezra chuckled, “I believe you are correct in that line of thinking, it would be difficult not to notice two loud little boys barreling into the kitchen.”

"I used to think of those moments often, so many of my memories were made in this house. My mother truly loved your mother, they could spend hours together all the while you and I were busy causing trouble."

"I suppose we take after them in that way" he grinned.

Conversation quieted, as they enjoyed the company of the other while listening to the fire crackling and popping, Christmas music playing softly in the background.

Ezra sighed, Crowley’s eyes were closed, and he had a warm grin plastered to his handsome face. He stood up and walked over to the small tree; it was the only one he could find but it had worked perfectly well. The lights twinkled and shone, casting a warm glow on the room.

He picked up the gift reverently, fiddling with the paper as he walked back to the sofa. The package had been wrapped beautifully, he’d taken his time.

It had to be perfect.

This could make or break everything, he sighed.

Crowley’s eyes popped open when he felt the couch dip as Ezra sat back down. The other man was sitting stiffly, he looked nervous. His cheeks were flushed, and he refused to meet his eyes. “Ezra?”

“I just want you to know, this doesn’t have to change anything. I just, well. I thought you should know.” He passed the red and gold package to Crowley, atop the package was a small bunch of mistletoe.

For a brief moment, Crowley considered what Ezra would do if he held the greenery above his head and kissed him.

He looked at it curiously before delicately opening the box, nestled inside was an ornament of all things. It was beautifully crafted, an angel with white hair holding an apple in their hand with a snake that looked suspiciously like Crawley wrapped around him. His golden eyes met blue, Crowley's brows were knitted together in confusion.

Ezra looked away, flushing as he did. “It reminded me of us, I hope you know how special you are to me, Anthony. You are my oldest friend, I must admit before I knew it was you, I had hoped to get a chance to meet the attractive man across the street. Then, you came over and introduced yourself and I feared I would ruin everything. I have never known a world without you in it, even when we didn’t see one another for all those years, I would think of you and hope you were doing well. Then you waltzed into my life and I have never wanted so badly.” He was fidgeting with the buttons of his tartan pajamas, not looking up.

“You, are you? You want me?” he breathed, baffled at the thought his feelings could be returned.

Crowley felt a warm hand softly wrap around his own, entwining their fingers.

Ezra swallowed hard, “I do, very much and I do hope you want me too.”

Crowley nodded, arranging himself to be closer to the other man. He reached out his other hand to rest on Ezra’s face, his thumb brushing over his lips and rubbing circles on the apple of his cheek. “I love you, Ezra.” He paused, watching closely for his reaction, “Would you mind, that is… may I kiss you?”

Ezra sighed in relief, a beaming smile blossoming on his face. “I would love nothing more than for you to kiss me, Anthony Crowley.”

As kisses go, it was soft and sweet. Uncertain and new, their noses bumping from time to time as they fell into a rhythm.

Out of breath, flushed with swollen lips, Crowley pulled back, resting his forehead against Ezra’s, “Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Anthony.” He leaned over to kiss him once more, his fingers finding his hair and tangling themselves in the gloriously soft tresses.

He briefly pulled away, “Oh, Crowley?”

“Yes, Ezra?”

“I forgot to say, I love you too. I was dreadfully distracted by your lovely mouth.”

Crowley snorted and laughed, capturing Ezra’s plump lips in another kiss.

Anthony J Crowley was four years old the first time he met the tiny Ezra A Fell; he wasn't impressed.

He was forty-six when he found him again in a bookshop in Soho.

He was forty-eight when Ezra A Fell became his boyfriend.

And he was forty-nine when he became his husband. 

**Author's Note:**

> As always, follow me on Tumblr here: [ AziraphalesRareBooks ](AziraphalesRareBooks.Tumblr.com)
> 
> I take prompts and headcanons!


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